


Snake Eyes

by lavvyan



Category: Boa vs. Python (2004), Thoughtcrimes
Genre: Angst, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-02
Updated: 2010-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Emmett blinked at him, open-mouthed, then he shook his head. "All right, you know what? This jealousy thing you've got going on? It's not cute."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Snake Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Berlinghoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berlinghoff/gifts).



"Emmett!"

When they find him, after _weeks,_ after Brendan has moved through denial, anger and bargaining and straight into depression… When they finally find him, Brendan thinks for a moment that Harper was right and Emmett _is_ dead, because no one can look that broken and still be alive.

"Brendan, look out!" Freya yells, but Brendan can't look away from where Emmett is lying, not even when the man who's been in the process of taking a swing at him with a crowbar starts gurgling, blood running from his nose and mouth as Freya crushes his mind.

They used to scare him, the things she's learned to do, but right now he doesn't care, and he can't look away but he can stumble forward and crash to his knees, aching to pull Emmett to his chest but not daring to.

"Emmett," he whispers, hands hovering above Emmett's pale face, his broken limbs, "Emmett, come on, wake up." His fingers finally settle on the cold skin of Emmett's neck, and his eyes burn as he feels the sluggish pulse there.

Emmett doesn't stir.

~~~

They met in Vegas. It was the best undercover stint in the history of the world, with Brendan required to spend as much time hitting the casinos as he possibly could. That really was an order he could get behind, and he won a nice stack of chips at the blackjack table, only to lose them all again at craps.

"Crapped out big time, huh?" A guy followed Brendan to the wheel of fortune, where he'd retreated to lick his wounds. He was carrying two beers, handing one of them to Brendan. "Here. I promise it's not drugged."

"Snake eyes," Brendan sighed morosely, accepting the beer in the comforting knowledge that even if it was laced with something, there were half a dozen federal agents watching him.

The guy laughed.

"I know all about them," he said, and Brendan's night became a lot more interesting.

He got lucky, too.

~~~

"Do you know him?" one of the medics asks, her face full of sympathy.

"Yeah," Brendan manages, his throat so tight the words are choking him, "he's my…"

Except, of course, Emmett isn't his anything.

"I know him," he says, and watches with clenched fists as the gurney, as _Emmett_ is carried away, still and small-looking, like he might be dead after all.

~~~

Brendan really did have a pathetically bad track record where it came to relationships, so he figured that trying to keep one up and running over the distance between New York City and West Virginia would lead to a crash and burn sooner rather than later.

It didn't.

Instead of feeling confined, Brendan missed Emmett when he wasn't around. They spent hours on the phone, somehow talking so easily the time had seemed like minutes. And when Emmett got the offer to relocate his research labs from Elkins to Secaucus, Brendan didn't hesitate.

"Look. It's only a few miles, just over half an hour if you want to save the environment and take the bus, and it's a lot more convenient than finding a place of your own. Not that you couldn't, I mean, it's just, I got a bigger apartment after I started working with Freya, and I've got… I mean, there's space. If you like."

Emmett liked. And it turned out that short distance was just as easy as long distance had been, with the added bonus of a lot more sex.

~~~

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you in there." The dark-haired nurse looks sympathetic, but her hand on Brendan's chest is firm as she keeps him from following the gurney any further. She's tall, but she's also slender, short-ish hair framing a narrow face. Brendan could push past her – and for a moment, he thinks he might – but that would be a distraction, precious seconds of the doctors looking up, away from Emmett, and Brendan is helplessly convinced that those few seconds would be the ones that decide between life and death.

"Please," the nurse says, and takes her hand away when it's clear that Brendan won't fight her. The little nametag on her lapel says 'Marybeth'. "Our waiting area is over there. Are you a relative?"

"NSA," Brendan says, too tired to lie. "I'm… NSA."

The nurse blinks, and her expression changes from one of gentle concern to one of bemusement. "I see," she says, and Brendan's also too tired to tell her she doesn't see anything.

~~~

For their first anniversary, Emmett pulled a colourful cardboard box from behind his back and presented it with flourish.

"Straight from my heart, for the biggest dork I know," he said, and Brendan laughed even as he reached for the box.

"Please tell me it's not funny underwear." Freya would never let him live it down.

"It's not funny underwear," Emmett said obediently, smirking as Brendan turned the box to look at it. 'Sincity Suckers', it read, and Brendan raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to blush when Freya asks what you got me, aren't I?"

Instead of an answer, Emmett kissed him, deep and wet before gesturing at the box. "Go ahead, open it."

Brendan's anniversary present turned out to be… lollipops. Big and square and in garish colours, twenty-four dice on sticks. Brendan trailed his fingers over the purple ones, those with only one pip on top.

"Snake eyes," he said, and when Emmett hummed happily in agreement, Brendan showed him that lollipops weren't the only things he liked to suck.

~~~

"Brendan."

Brendan blows out a breath and shifts in the hard plastic seat. His back aches. His entire body aches, and he's never felt so old. Freya's hand on his shoulder feels small, a tiny patch of warmth against the numbness that holds him fast.

Freya doesn't ask 'how are you holding up?' or 'any news yet?' and Brendan's grateful for that. She knows as much as he does, which is _nothing,_ god damn it all, and he's already waited for so long – _weeks_ – that he thinks these additional hours might very well break him.

Freya doesn't say 'It's going to be okay,' either, but her hand on his shoulder tightens, and Brendan blows out another breath and lets his head fall against hers.

~~~

They broke up over a truly stupid thing. Brendan wishes he could say that he doesn't even remember what it was, but of course he does.

He always remembers everything.

~~~

"I don't know," Marybeth says for the twelfth time that hour. She still looks sympathetic instead of annoyed, so Brendan probably looks every bit as bad as he feels. "He's still in surgery. And you know I'm not supposed to tell you even that much, NSA or not."

Yeah. He knows. That's why he manages to smile at her before he returns to his seat, to Freya and several empty coffee cups.

"He's going to be okay," Freya says finally, after another drawn-out silence, and Brendan laughs shakily because it's either that or cry.

~~~

Brendan wasted no time on trying to hide his frustration, the betrayal stuck hard and cold like a lump of ice in his guts. "You kissed her."

Emmett blinked at him, open-mouthed, then he shook his head. "All right, you know what? This jealousy thing you've got going on? It's not cute."

Brendan still stood by the door, fists clenched. "I saw you."

"I was _comforting_ her!" Emmett shouted and threw up his hands, exasperation turning into anger. "I told you, Monica just lost her boyfriend. What was I _supposed_ to do?"

"Of course she did," Brendan sneered, hating himself but unable to stop the venom spilling from his lips. "It's got nothing to do with her wanting to fuck you since the day you met."

Emmett's fist connected with Brendan's jaw and sent him sprawling. Things went downhill from there.

~~~

"Still no word?" It's Terri, this time. Patel's been and gone, as has June, even Welles. They like Emmett. Hell, they like Brendan, for whatever fucked-up reason.

"Nothing," Freya answers for him.

"I'm sorry," Terri says, and Brendan snuffles and says, "Thank you," because he's sorry, too.

His voice sounds like that of a stranger. It seems weirdly fitting.

~~~

Maybe they could have salvaged something. Maybe, with a little time and a lot of grovelling, Brendan could have made it right again. Only then some idiots stole Betty and Brendan ended up having to shoot her, right between the eyes, and Emmett…

Emmett didn't even look at him when he stuttered out his apology. Emmett just turned around and left him standing there, and whenever Brendan remembers that moment – too often, "Brendan, you're obsessing over it," – he can see every detail: the stiff set of Emmett's shoulders, the curl of hair in the nape of his neck, the men's room door opening ahead of him.

A perfect picture, except all the colour has leached out of it.

~~~

"Agent Dean?"

Brendan startles out of a half-doze, his flailing hand smacking Freya's arm. He blinks, sheepishly, at the nurse in front of him. It's a different one, blonde and tiny; Marybeth left hours ago, talking to her replacement and sending little glances in Brendan's direction. This one is smiling at him, and he blinks, not sure how he's supposed to act.

"Yes?" he hazards finally, and her smile widens.

"Please follow me," she says. It takes Brendan another few seconds and Freya's elbow between his ribs to realise the nurse – Anne, her nametag says 'Anne' – is taking him to see Emmett.

He's up from his chair so fast the room spins around him, and both Anne and Freya reach for his elbows to steady him. Brendan staggers, and smiles – "Sorry, haven't eaten in a few hours," – and follows sweet, pretty Anne down the corridors.

He doesn't know if the rushing sound in his ears is from the dizziness, or because his heart is hammering so hard he can feel the pulse in his throat each time he tries to swallow the dryness from his mouth.

~~~

He loved him so much. God, so much.

He still does.

~~~

It takes four days for Emmett to wake up. Four days during which Brendan spends most of his time at the hospital – Harper gave him an unspecified amount of time off, something Brendan suspects he has Welles to thank for – and only leaves when someone kicks him out on account of his growing body odour. Four days during which he's perversely torn between willing Emmett to open his eyes and be okay, and wishing he'll sleep another five minutes, just five more minutes, just so Brendan can stay with him a little longer.

"Brend'n." The voice is raspy. Drugs and a coma and a breathing tube will do that to you.

"Hey." Then again, Brendan's own voice somehow breaks on that one syllable, so he isn't a lot better off. Emmett blinks at him, probably wondering what the hell Brendan's doing there in his room, so Brendan licks his lips and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just get a nurse or something." He hesitates, then he pats Emmett's leg – the one that isn't broken – through the blanket, feeling guilty pleasure at the small, last contact. "I'm glad you're okay."

He turns to leave, but Emmett grabs his hand with a much faster movement than Brendan would have given him credit for, index and middle finger – the only fingers on his right that aren't broken – curled around Brendan's. His grip is weak, trembling, the cast around his forearm probably pulling at him, but he holds Brendan faster than a ten-foot anchor made of lead. Though maybe it's Emmett's eyes that are keeping him rooted to the spot, clear and blue and knowing.

"Knew you'd come," Emmett manages hoarsely, his voice holding a conviction that is startling in its simplicity.

Brendan blinks and opens his mouth. "I…" Emmett's grip tightens, and Brendan trails off, staring down at their joined hands.

"Knew you'd come," Emmett repeats, and suddenly the words are rich with meaning. Brendan's gaze jerks to meet Emmett's, and Emmett quirks that crooked smile of his, pale and bruised and looking like shit, and the best thing Brendan's ever seen.

"Yeah," he mumbles, his voice rough, "of course."

He'll always come. And maybe Emmett will come for him, too. Maybe snake eyes means he wins, after all.

Brendan sits down again, fingers awkwardly tangled with Emmett's, telling stories with no idea what he's saying, just to keep Emmett awake a little longer. He watches as Emmett loses the fight against sleep, eyes drooping shut again, and dares to hope for the first time in what feels like forever.

The nurses chase him away again, but this time leaving is easy.

He'll be back soon, and Emmett knows it.


End file.
